


Book III. The Empress

by DarkeShayde



Series: The Arcana: A Retelling [3]
Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Chance Meetings, F/M, Fortune Telling, Ghosts, Haunting, Insomnia, Magic, Murder Mystery, Mystery, Other, Spells & Enchantments, Threats of Violence, Travel, Visions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-06
Updated: 2018-07-06
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:05:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15184376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarkeShayde/pseuds/DarkeShayde
Summary: The apprentice, Shayde, makes the journey to the Palace and once there, the Countess expounds on her proposal and reveals her plan for the Masquerade. Also, there seems to be something lurking in the Palace halls. Something that has evil intentions.





	1. Day

My name is Shayde. I am rather short even compared to other women, only standing around 5’2. I have jet black, shoulder length hair and blue-grey eyes that, I’m told, change color depending on what I am wearing. I am pale skinned only because I am incapable of getting a tan at all, despite the harsh sun of this kingdom. My skin simply refuses to get any darker. I am a student of the magical arts ... and today I will journey to the Palace, to met with the Countess. I spend the early hours preparing my things by lamplight, casting wild shadows on the walls. Seeking a moments rest, I go to the back room to lie down ... and slip away, lost in a dream.

The sky is no more than a slim, green line along the endless horizon. Beside me is Asra, sitting on the back of a strange beast.

“Master, where are we?” I ask. Dark clouds bear down all around the barren landscape, a shifting sea of rust-colored sand. Ahead is a road of perfect black stone. What a bleak looking landscape.

“I dare not tell you.” Is Asra’s eventual reply. Typical. Even in dreams, he hides things from me. “If I did, you’d have to promise me never to seek this path. Not even I am such a hypocrite as that, Shayde.” At least is aware that he _is_ a hypocrite. On another note, I’m sure I’ve never walked this road, and yet ... the sight of it feels like an old nightmare. I strain to see where the black road leads, but it keeps changing as I watch.

“Soon there will be a crossroads.” Asra says, this time without any prompting.

“Crossroads? Where do they lead?” I ask, trying to hide the impatience I am feeling. If he knows that I am impatient to learn what he knows, he tends to shut down. I’ve not quite figured out why yet. Or how to counter this move.

“Depends on which one you take.” He says. That much is obvious. Before I can ask him another question, he speaks again. “Now ... rest.” All goes black and my sleep is dreamless, then.

When I wake, early dawn light is filtering through the dusty windows. Dusty, because neither Asra or myself are very good at housekeeping, unfortunately. Well, I won’t be cleaning the shop today either. I have a Palace to get to.

I throw on a traveling cloak of light grey over a plain dress that used to be a nice burgundy color. It is faded and patched now, but it is clean. I hurry outside, dragging the heavy door shut behind me. After last night’s intrusion ... I turn the first lock, and then the second and third as well. Almost satisfied, I press my right hand to the door and whisper a cross-me-not spell. The wood lights up beneath my palm, in the pattern of Asra’s intricate designs. White whirls glow deep within the door, slowly fading into the grain. The shop will be well. All will be well.

I pull my cloak tighter around me, and step out into the foggy street. The morning mist is thick, yet to be scattered by the heat of day. It blankets the street in an ethereal, milky glow. Even as I shiver somewhat from the chill, I take a moment to appreciate the tranquil scene, when all at once ... The hair at the nape of my neck rises in alarm. Someone is near. Someone is ... right beside me.

I turn towards the eerie sensation, and notice a dark shape looming in the alley. At first, I don’t realize that I’m looking at a human. The form is certainly human in shape, though monstrous in size. Their flesh is scored with scars, clean and jagged, shallow and deep. Shrouded in a pall of weather-beaten furs, it’s hard to make out a face ... But they are definitely watching me. No ... waiting for me to come out? They stand between me and the path I have to take. I take a step forward, watching the figure cautiously. Stormy green eyes follow my movements as I enter the alley. My steps are careful, but the stranger makes no move. And then ... a voice like distant thunder rumbles from beneath their robes.

“You are in grave danger.” The voice says. I pause, inhaling sharply. The earthy smell of myrrh washes over me, and I hold still. Waiting.

“He will return uninvited. He will offer you a gift when you need it most ... Turn it away. Or you will fall into his hand ... Just like the rest of us.” I blink, trying to process what I just heard. There is shuffling behind me, the dragging of rough cloth and chains. And then, silence ...I have to go. Now. Exhaling deeply, I continue toward the narrow, mossy steps that will lead me to the marketplace.

Wood groans beneath my feet as I step carefully onto the walkway. Daylight seeps through the gaps in between the worn planks, shimmering on the water that flows below. It’s early yet, and the marketplace is already wide awake. All around me are the sounds of bartering, laughter, and vendors hawking their wares. The marketplace is the catch all. Want to know what is going on? The marketplace is full of shopkeepers that know everything there is to know. Need a particular item for a project or a special someone? The marketplace has anything you could ever want. A voice I know well calls out to me over the sea of noise.

“Shayde! Have you eaten?” The baker asks. He knows that I tend to get distracted and forget to about food. “I’ve got that pumpkin loaf you like in the oven. Won’t be long now. Come, sit down, talk for a while!” I sniff the air on impulse and my stomach twists in hunger. Then again, I should probably be careful of the time ... I decline the invitation with a wave of my hand. The baker nods, ducking back inside the sweet-smelling booth. If I had stayed, I would probably be grilled about where I was going and who had visited the shop last night. Gossip travels fast around here.

Up ahead, the crowd is thickening with the morning rush of peasant workers. I weave around, focused on finding a clear path ... until I hear a sharp cry from above me. A raven, perched overhead, meets my gaze. At once, it has my full attention. It’s fathomless eyes look beyond me, over my shoulder. I cast a subtle glance backward ... and my heart stutters in shock.

The Doctor is moving casually through the throng. He wears no mask and because of his height is clearly visible. Though I am close enough to be sure of his identity, the crowd between us is dense. He has yet to spot me. I think I’ll keep it that way, if I can.

Without a second thought, I turn and duck into the crowd. It was him. It definitely was. And unmasked, in broad daylight? A terrifying thought occurs to me. If he is here now ... has he been nearby, all along? Is he ... following me? The thought of the Doctor spying from the shadows while I was napping makes my throat go dry. I chance a backwards glance, to see if I’ve been spotted. Just then, the raven gives another call, drawing the Doctor’s eye toward me. Surprise flits across his face. I turn back around, heart pounding.

The crowd may as well be invisible. I feel his gaze boring into the back of my skull. But I know this marketplace. I know where to turn, and where to hide. I leave the beaten path, weaving through the booths like a wild phantom. I don’t dare to look back. Up ahead is a narrow stairwell, where the masses and their animals are tightly packed. As I climb the well-worn steps, something catches my eye.

A fortune teller’s booth, tucked away in a shady corner. Silver moons adorn the tapestries draped over the entrance, shrouding it in secrecy. The sight teases a smile out of me. How nostalgic ... When we met, Asra was operating out of a place just like it. As I’m lost in my musings, a young, female patron emerges from the booth, caught up in conversation. I try to give her a wide berth and keep my head down, in case the Doctor is still nearby.

“Before I forget, what are my lucky numbers today?” The patron asks. “ **Three** , **six** , **seven** , **nine**. Got it.” She is still repeating these numbers over and over to herself when, unnoticed by me, she backs right into my path. We end up crashing right into each other.

“Ack!” She exclaims. The impact makes me stumble, teetering on the edge of a step. It also upsets the basket balanced on the stranger’s hip ... which sends a dozen pomegranates rolling down the stairs.

“Oh, perfect!” The stranger grumbles. “As if I wasn’t already late ...“ I drop into crouch beside the stranger to help. These are luxurious fruits. It’s unusual to buy them in bulk. I spot one as it’s about to be stomped under a stray hoof, and swipe it at the last second. When I hand it back to the young woman, her eyes sparkle with delight.

“Ooh, thank you! How sweet of you to help.” She says. “And after I bumped into you in the first place.” Together, we hunt the rest of them down, maneuvering through the steadily increasing foot traffic. Though we’re nearly trampled trying, we manage to recover every last fruit.

“Well, I can’t thank you enough!” She rises to her feet, and offers me a hand. Her grip is strong. The skin of her small palm is rough against mine, calloused. This young woman is even shorter than I am. Her hair is ginger colored and full of adorable, bouncy curls. Her clear blue eyes sparkle with a mischievous light. There is something vaguely familiar about her, but I can’t say exactly what. I do know I like her right away.

“Probably shouldn’t do this, but ...“ Rubbing it off on a sleeve of her Palace servant’s uniform, she offers me a fruit from the basket. When I accept it, the stranger gives me a smile that warms my chest.

“Take care, all right?” With a cheeky wink, she departs with her basket of fruit, slipping into the crowd.

“That was Portia, you know.” A voice with a rattling cough draws my attention. The fortune teller has moved to stand at the entrance of the booth, and is eyeing me with avid interest.

“She’s the Countess’ favorite.” He goes on. “Favorite servant, that is. As for you ... you look like a wanderer, yes? Wouldn’t you like to hear what fortune the fates have spun for you?”

“No thanks.” I say. I could very easily do a reading for myself. I have no reason to stop, plus I need to be getting to the Palace. I don’t want to be late.

“As you wish.” The fortune teller shrugs. “But know this ... Your fate will come to you either way.” I spot two gold teeth in their playful grin. “A bright future awaits you.” He adds as I walk away.

As the sun journeys across the sky, I climb stair, after stair, after seemingly infinite stair. The higher I ascend, the fewer travelers I encounter along the way. By the time I reach the top of the stairs, I can barely walk anymore. Thankfully, it’s near dark now. I wipe pouring sweat from my sun beaten brow and look ahead. Before me is a towering gate of twisted iron. Beyond that, I can see the Palace closer than ever before. The sight of it makes it hard to catch my breath. It is much more enchanting up close than it is from the city below.

“Who goes there?” Comes a voice from my right. A guard stands on either side of the gate, I notice. They were so still, I had mistaken them for designs in the metal.

“My name is Shayde. I have come at the request of the Countess.” I say.

“Shayde?” Asks the guard to my left. They share a look. The guard on my right speaks next.

“We have no knowledge of you.” Now I realize with a sinking heart that the Countess never asked for my name. But, she said she would inform the guards I was coming.

“Unless you know the code,” Says the one on the left. “you must leave at once.”

“Code?” I question. The Countess never mentioned a code. One guard folds a hand over the hilt of a planted sword. The threat in that simple gesture is very clear.

“Yes. A series of four numbers.” The guard to the right prompts.

“If you do not know the numbers, leave.” Demands the one to the left. “We are not above violence.”

“Or torture.” Chimes in the other, sounding far too happy at the thought of hurting someone.

“Anything for the Countess.”

Well, that all seems a bit extreme. And I am getting whiplash looking back and forth in between these two. Something in the back of my mind prompts me to speak again.

“I know the code.” They each give me a skeptical look.

“... Proceed.” Ushers the one on the right. I eye their heavy swords and swallow audibly. But I think I do know the code. Asra often tells me that when something catches your attention, there’s a reason. If it feels like it has special significance, it does. The numbers are probably ...

“Three, six, seven, nine” I say, repeating the lucky numbers from the fortune teller’s earlier. The guards are quiet at first, then they step back, each swinging open one of the massive doors.

“Proceed.” I nod, keeping my composure even as a thrill goes down my spine. Without hesitation, I walk past them and onto the bridge beyond. The Palace is right before me. I hear the gate slam shut, and there is no turning back now.


	2. Night

As the sun drops below the horizon, the Palace is illuminated with gold. The geometry of the structure is perfect. Its towers seem to stretch to the stars. Escorting me is Portia, the Countess’ servant. Thankfully, she arrived at the gates just after I did. Had she not appeared, I would be alone as I faced the looming Palace ... My gaze trails down the alabaster bridge to the swirling waters below. There’s ... something down there. Corkscrewing through the muck, it glows like some kind of bloodless ghost. Its body is long and rippling, ribbon-like.

“Something catch your eye?” Portia asks when she notices my attention shift. She leans pass me, and her eyes light up when she spots the creature in the water below.

“Ah. Do you like animals?” She asks next. I nod, still looking into the depths.

“I love animals.” I say.

“Oh, you do? How nice!”” Portia says. I feel as if I have passed some kind of test and her opinion of me is higher now. “You’ll definitely enjoy your stay here. The Palace is home to all kinds of exotic pets. But you don’t want to get too friendly with that one. It’s a vampire eel. Imported from faraway swamps. No eyes or ears, but they’re still pretty graceful, don’t you think? Unless you splash around a lot, they won’t even bother you. But you wouldn’t want to catch a bite. If they bite, they don’t stop drinking until the body is dry.” I nod, peering down at the creature as it spirals into the billowing silts. Portia pats my shoulder, ushering me along. She occupies me with lively conversation all the way down the bridge.

As we approach the intricate front doors of the Palace, I find myself growing more and more nervous. Uncertainties start to rise within me like bubbles in water when it comes to a boil. Is this wise? What awaits me, in this fortress so far from home? If I walk through those doors ... will I ever walk back out again? Too soon we are standing before them, and Portia turns to me with a winsome smile.

“We have arrived.” She says, somewhat needlessly. She swings her fist against the copper plating, three skull-rattling strikes. As the last echos fade, the pendulous doors swing inward ... And I am swept inside, wondering if I will ever return.

Inside is a different world. Everything is gleaming. The floors, the walls, and the steep ceilings are all clean-cut polished stone. Lining the hall on either side are many servants, standing at attention in brilliant uniforms. My eyes flick left and right uneasily as I am welcomed from all angles. When we reach the end of the line, one servant slips away from the rest to join us. Barely four feet tall, a sumptuous blue feather stands proudly from his velvet cap. With a deep bow, he passes me and dashes to Portia’s side.

“How are we doing on time?” Portia asks.

“Impeccable timing!” Comes the very enthusiastic reply. “The first course will be served shortly. Her ladyship has yet to descend.” Portia heaves a sigh of relief and hands her fruit basket off to the bright-eyed servant.

“Perfect. Run and tell the kitchen that our guest has arrived.”

“Yes, yes, right away!” With a curtsy, the servant slips away disappearing behind a panel in the wall which slides seamlessly shut.

“Well, well, well! It looks like we will be arriving right on time.” Portia says cheerfully. “Her ladyship will be joining us soon. I’ll show you to the dining room.” Dining? As in ... me, dining? With the Countess? My surprise must show on my face, because Portia laughs and shakes her head.

“What? Don’t tell me that you thought we wouldn’t _feed_ you!” Portia giggles again, patting me on the shoulder in sympathy. “Don’t be shy. You’re the guest of honor!” Her words leave my stomach fluttering with everything except hunger. I follow her purposeful stride, our footsteps echoing down the cavernous hall. Soon we are standing before a fine mahogany door, and Portia turns to me again.

“We’ll go together, okay?” She says. I can tell she is trying to calm my nerves so I nod. Portia then opens the door, leading me inside. I step into the dining room. Rich scents fill my lungs, unfamiliar and tantalizing. A quintet dressed in gauzy flowing evening gowns are playing a pleasant, ambling melody. Before me is a long table laid heavily with platters of the most careful delicacy. Portia pulls out a chair for me, and I sink into the plush seat. Now that the food is right in front of me, my hunger returns tenfold. But the Countess has yet to arrive. I tear my gaze away from the table ... And notice the strange painting on the wall across from me. The scene is that of a meal shared among a host of figures with the heads of beasts. The table is laden with small animals, provided by a central character with the head of a goat. Rays of gold glitter around its head, and its red eyes are strikingly lifelike.

“I see you are admiring the painting.” My head whips toward the head of the table, and the source of the sonorous voice. Countess Nadia is taking her seat, as graceful as I remember from last night, or this morning, I guess. At the sight of me, her lips curve into a placid smile.

“Do you like it, Shayde? The painting?” She asks. So, I guess she does know my name. Strange, I know she never asked me. I look over at the large painting again. For some reason I can’t explain, I do like it.

“Yes.” I say simply. The Countess drums her elegant fingers along her cheekbone as I answer, watching me with idle interest.

“Oh? You have peculiar taste.” She says. “I cannot say that I care much for it. So why does it remain on the wall, where I must look at it always, you might ask?” I might have asked, had she not beaten me to it. A servant appears at my side to place a bowl of yogurt and cucumber soup before me. I bring it to my mouth immediately and drink.

“Sentimental value, I suppose.” Countess Nadia continues. “It was one of my husband’s favorites.” The Countess’ husband. I’m surprised at the mention of him. Count Lucio ... As his name takes form in my mind, the image of the goat figure before me becomes somehow familiar. Suddenly, its red eyes are so vivid that I can almost feel them returning my gaze. It is unnerving, to say the least.

“Beautiful red.” The words fall from my mouth unbidden, but I can’t help noticing the stunning shade.

“Ah, yes. It is a beautiful red.” The Countess agrees. “But more to the point ... you have a spoon, I recommend using it.” Sheepishly, I obey. I was so hungry, it hadn’t occurred to me. Amusement shimmers in the Countess’ brilliant eyes.

“As I was saying ... the goat-headed one in the middle is him, or so it is supposed to be. Providing for the people as he saw himself. He certainly knew how to entertain.” She goes on. “Festivities at the Palace were exhaustive ... he loved to spoil his guests.” My empty bowl is whisked away. In its place is a dish of the flaky golden savories. The Countess watches me practically devour them with morbid curiosity. I have not eaten yet today and everything looks amazing.

“Tell me, Shayde ... Did you ever attend our Masquerade?” I blink, mouth full.“I would imagine so. Our doors were open to all ... well, up to a certain capacity.” I chew my pastry slowly, uncertain of how to answer. The Masquerade was a festival held every year in celebration of the Count’s birthday. For the Countess to bring him up again is unexpected, but ... I realize now that it probably has something to do with the reason she called me here.

“I know it is a difficult matter to discuss.” Countess Nadia goes on again. “I know how fondly the people of this city remember the Masquerade. And of course, how deeply affected we all were by the murder.” I nearly choke at that. Mercifully, I catch myself. My pulse quickens nonetheless.

“Such a terrible shock to the guests. Such a vicious injustice upon this house. To slaughter the host while he celebrates his birthday, sharing his joy and prosperity, with open doors? A hateful crime indeed.” Her attention shifts to an approaching servant. “Ah, thank you.” As our entrees arrive, Countess Nadia falls silent. I turn my attention to the plate before me, a fragrant lamb dish in a complicated sauce. There is no way I’ll be able to eat all of this.

All I know of the murder of Count Lucio is through rumors and whispers. The story is full of holes though, more questions to be had than answers. But the end is always the same. On the night of the last Masquerade, the Count retired to his chambers, and by midnight, he and his chamber both were engulfed in flames. The culprit was captured on the spot. Or surrendered ... the details vary there. But before he could be brought to justice, the murderer escaped. Ever since that day, the Palace has been locked away from all who would seek to enter.

“You may be wondering why I am telling you all this. Why I called you here.” The Countess speaks suddenly and with gravity. At once, she has all the room at attention. “Well, I have been planning this for some time.” She says. “This year, we will hold the Masquerade once more. The gates will be open again, and the festivities in Lucio’s honor will be more fanatical than ever. Fantastical, excuse me.” She dabs the corner of her mouth. All around the room, palpable shock bears down on the silence. Only Portia appears unbothered by the news. As the favorite, she must have already been told.

“As I said, I’ve planned all the necessary details already. There is but one loose end in need of tying.” The Countess says. “The murderer. To this day, he roams free. Too long has he evaded me. So long as he stalks the shadows of this city, I cannot guarantee the safety of my guests. I must find him. And I must bring him to justice before the people of this city.” The words are spoken with passion and I can see that this weighs heavily on her.

“Surely you know the murderer of whom I speak ... Doctor Julian Devorak, my husband’s trusted physician.” There’s a terrible crash. All eyes land on a trembling Portia, whose face is stricken with horror. At her feet, the broken remains of our dessert are seeping into the floor.

“Portia?” Countess Nadia questions in concern.

“F-forgive me, milady. Slippery hands.” Portia mumbles out. The Countess waves it off, merciful.

“You are forgiven ...“ Two servants rush to Portia’s aid, sweeping away the shattered porcelain with wind sprint speed. I’m mildly impressed.

“Anyway ... this is where you come in, Shayde.” Countess Nadia says. “The fugitive has proved very elusive. The Palace guard is helpless in rooting him out. But while they continue to disappoint me ... You come highly recommended. Your master is known far and wide. Rumor has it that you have surpassed him already.” I have to look away, sheepishly. The praise feels undeserved.

“I myself see the future, in dreams, whether I like it or not. And this is how I know you are the one who will find him for me ... That fraudulent doctor who betrayed us and murdered my husband. This is why I’ve called you here, Shayde. It anyone can help me find him, it is you.” Nadia concludes.

“And ... if we find him?” I ask. I know he is around, I’ve seen him twice in less than a day, but I need to know more before I agree. The Countess sets down her glass.

“ _When_ we find him, we will bring him before the people so that all may see his long-awaited punishment.” The passion from earlier is back, and this time with a hint of bloodlust. “Whether he begs for his life, or hangs his head in defeat, the people will delight in his suffering. A spectacle of vengeance. The mob will love it. And so, to commence the festivities ... The Doctor will die on the gallows. Well, if all goes according to plan.” The Countess rises. On instinct, I rise as well.

“Portia.” Countess Nadia says. “... Portia.”

“Yes, milady?” Portia snaps to attention. I notice that her eyes are glistening, as if she is holding back tears. Curious.

“Show Shayde to the guest quarters. I imagine there is much to ponder before the night is out.” She instructs. Portia nods.

“Right away, milady.” Portia pulls me to my feet, and with a humble bow, whisks me to the doorway. Before we step out, however, Countess Nadia speaks again.

“I’m interested to see more of this magic of yours, Shayde.” She says. “And I look forward to our partnership.” Automatically, I bow and the Countess looks pleased. Portia hurries me out the door.

Portia is quiet as she ushers me down the hall toward my room. I don’t mind the quiet. The Countess’ words left us both with much to think about. After a few turns, we pass a wide staircase, veiled in shadow. A draft rushes down from the floor above, prickling my skin. It’s cold, and it smells of ash. I strain to see where the stairs lead, but the darkness at the top of top is impenetrable. More importantly ...

Curled up on the bottom step are two large, lanky dogs. They notice me just as I’ve noticed them. Fathomless eyes fix upon me, and they rise slowly, without a sound. Though they look as if they could strike at any moment, I sense no ill intent. I hold my out my hand, and they approach to sniff it. Their huffing breaths tickle my skin. The more they smell, the more their tails start to swing from side to side. There is a gasp from up ahead, and I look up to see Portia watching the scene unfold with wide eyes.

“Oh my ...“ She almost whispers. “What’s this? You actually got up from your favorite stair?” She rounds back, observing the dogs in wonder.

“Well, this is bizarre.” Portia tells me. “These two never take kindly to strangers. It’s just how they were trained, but ... I’ve never seen them act like this. This is Mercedes, and this is Melchior.”

Slim snouts brush up against my sides as the dogs investigate me further. Satisfied they draw back, looking at me expectantly. There’s something unsettling in their gaze. These two are no ordinary dogs. The deeper I look into their eyes, the less I understand. I find myself staring them down. The dogs shiver, dropping their heads low. Under the pressure of my gaze, they slink back to the staircase obediently. When they’re settled, I turn to see Portia’s face radiant with wonder.

“I’ve ... never seen them do that.” She says. “Very impressive! For a second, I was sure you were going to lose a couple of fingers. You didn’t cast a spell on them, did you?” She laughs, thankfully. I didn’t know that she was joking.

“Oh! That reminds me, they haven’t had their chamomile cakes. They’re gonna be up all night!” Portia exclaims. She turns to address the dogs. “Keep Shayde company, you two. No growling, no snapping, no biting!” She turns back to me. “They’ve gotten a lot better, it’s just tough to train them out of their old ways. Count Lucio liked to keep them vicious. Be right back!”

Portia swoops through a sliding panel in the wall and I’m left alone in the hallway with the dogs. I can feel the bigger one, Melchior I think, sniff my side insistently. When I look down it simply pulls back and stares. Then the smaller one, Mercedes, is sniffing my other side, huffing samples of my scent. I whirl to catch it ... And it sits back on its haunches, watching me innocently. Cheeky. As I look into its sanguine eyes, an unsettling sensation ripples through my body like a wave of fever.

“ _Oooooh hello hello hello, what do we have here ..._ ” A voice comes from nowhere. “ _A guest?_ ” I startle back, gaze darting up and down the corridor. Who said that? It sounded like it was coming from ... up there. The top of the stairs. I can only see so far into the hollow gloom. But there’s no one there. I nearly jump when I feel yanking on my garments. The dogs. Their teeth are buried in my clothes, unrelenting as they drag me onto the stairs. I trip up the first few steps and their tails start wagging. I hear the voice again, a hiss of delight.

“ _Yessss my beauties ... bring that morsel to papa._ ”

“Hey!” I cry as I wrench myself free. Groaning in frustration, the dogs scamper to the top of the stairs ... And wait. I’ve always been too curious for my own good, and now is no different. Carefully, I take the next step, toward the oppressive gloom.

“ _Gooooood. Just a little closer ... best behavior, you two._ ” The voice says. “ _Let’s show off our famous hospitality._ ” Snickering bounces off the walls, and I feel the sweltering heat at my back, urging my higher. I take the next couple of steps on my own. The dogs pant and circle each other in excitement as I approach the landing.

“ _Hehehehehehe yesss. It’s been too long since we had company, hasn’t it?_ ” The voice croons. “ _Good dogs. You’re dismissed, yes you are~_ “ I’m vaguely aware of their silky bodies brushing my sides as they slink away. A few more steps and I reach a miasma of thick, scorching air that pricks my skin all over.

“ _Now then ..._ “ Comes the voice. “ _Let’s take a proper look at you, my little appetizer._ ” The mocking words lap at my ear. I can feel hot breath skimming my cheek, a presence at my side. It falls back, cool air filling the void, soothing my nerves before I get the distinct feeling of being circled.

“ _Tsk tsk. Cheap clothes ... did you make them yourself? And these shoes are even worse. Don’t you own any others?_ ” A phantom gaze roams my body from head to toe as I twist and squirm, trying to catch sight of the presence. It’s futile.

“ _Just yet another peasant worm, tracking peasant filth up and down my halls. And yet ... the dogs did say you smell delicious._ ” The voice observes. “ _I guess you’re not too unfortunate looking ... oh, what’s this?_ ” There is a sensation at the crown of my head, sucking the air, drawing my aura up. A guttural groan of delight sounds all around me.

“ _There, in your energy ... oh, it’s him. You bear his signature. Asraaaaaaaa. This powerful, potent magic ... oh, that’s the real deal~_ “ It sounds like this voice is talking simply to hear itself. “ _And he is all over you. Could it be ..._ “ I feel the feverish heat swoop over my shoulders, rising up before me. It blasts across my face, impossibly close. Whatever this is, is face to face with me, whether I can see it or not.

“ _Was it ... you? The one who broke him for me? I’d just love to get to know you._ ” The searing heat scatters. For a moment, I’m swaying on my feet, eyes lidded. I feel strange. A rash of warmth lands on my shoulder, whisper-light, and starts to lead me down the arid hall. The longer the pressure bears down on me, the hotter it grows. Even as it begins to burn, I keep walking.

“Shayde~~~~~“ Portia. Her call rings through my hazy mind like crystal. Sharp, unseen fingers sink into my shoulder before they release. A steamy sigh flutters over my neck, raising goosebumps all the way down my back.

“ _That’s you, right?_ ” One phantom claw drags up the underside of my chin, lifting my lolling head. For a split second, I think I might see a face, a figure standing right in front of me. It looks for all the world like a very ragged looking, one-armed version of the goat in the Count’s painting in the dining room, minus the neat and crisp outfit that figure had worn.

“ _I’ll be keeping my eye on you ... Shayde._ ” My name rings out all around again, Portia’s singsong voice and a mocking echo that travels down the empty hall. I turn and walk unsteadily back the way I came. When I stumble down the stairs, disoriented, Portia is looking around corners for me.

“There you are!” She says. “Where did the dogs go? Up the stairs?” Up the stairs ... I nod, feeling the last of the haze left from my mind. She takes me gently by the elbow. I must look as out of it as I feel.

“You know, I’m just going to leave these cakes right here and uh, let’s get you to bed. You’ve had a long day.” Portia says. I follow at her heels until we arrive at our destination. Thankfully, it isn’t much further. She swings open the door with a sweeping gesture.

“And here we are! These will be your quarters for now, Shayde.” Portia announces. “You can put your things wherever you like. Breakfast is at sunrise ... I’ll be sure to wake you.” My fatigue must be showing more than I thought. I let my bag fall to the floor. Portia goes on.

“If you find anything lacking, don’t hesitate to ask.” She prepares my bed with remarkable speed. Eyeing the smooth linens, I shudder with exhaustion. By the stars, I am tired!

“All right, you look about ready to drop. I’ll leave you be.” Portia says. “Unless you have any burning questions?” Leaning against the doorway, she bats her eyes at me expectantly. Now that she mentions it, I do have a question to ask her, but nothing having to do with my accommodations.

“You dropped something at dinner. Why?” I ask. Portia’s expression sours, color draining from her cheeks. Her brows knit painfully, and she bites her lip. For a moment, she’s quiet.

“Haha, well ... slippery hands. For one thing.” She says casually. I stare, unblinking.

“It’s just ... we were all so glad to hear that the Countess was expecting a guest. And such a lovely guest, at that ...“ She winks, sighing when I only stare ever more persistently.

“But to think she asked you to come here for something like this ... Finding that doctor who, for all anybody knows could be dead in a ditch somewhere. I mean, it’s been years since ... well, you know. He could be anywhere, right? And it’s not like the guards have had any recent leads. But now that _you’re_ here ...“ She stares me dead in the eyes. “The Countess is hopeful, for the first time I can remember. If anybody can help her, it’s you.” Her silhouette lingers in the doorway a moment too long. I feel almost as if she is seeking my reassurance or confirmation that the Doctor is not nearby. As if she is upset that I may find him for the Countess.

“Sleep well, Shayde.” Her soft voice trails off, and I hear the door slide shut. At once, I burrow into the luxurious sheets. It feels as though I’m weightless. Heart thumping to the rhythm of Portia’s steady, ever-distancing footfalls, I sink into unconsciousness.

... I can’t ... I can’t sleep. This is torture. After the day-long climb to the Palace, I finally have a chance to rest. But whenever I settle into the embrace of sleep, I am tugged back to consciousness. After writhing around in bed for a while, I sit up frustrated. When I do ... I can sense the faintest whiff of magic in the air. The direction from which it’s coming ... is the door. Quietly, I slide out of bed. I slip my shoes on and retrieve my bag from the floor. I may need my things. Taking a deep breath, I turn the handle of the door, and emerge into the brightly lit hallway. There isn’t a soul in sight. Good. I must have wasted a few hours tossing and turning. I shuffle down the hall, trusting my senses to lead me. I make a few turns. Each time, I have no doubt which way to go. Until I reach a fork, and the trail goes cold. No ... that’s not it. The trail is hot from both sides.

I choose the hallway on the left and it leads me onto a balmy veranda, bathed in starlight. Below, I see the gardens, shady and lush. From this high up, I can see that the middle forms a maze of greenery. At its center, there is a clearing. I know at once where to go.

Silently, I descend the garden path, shrouded in a warm breeze. Quieting my thoughts, I listen to the night birds and let my intuition lead me through the maze. As I near the center, the musical sound of falling water grows louder and louder. I reach a fountain, the center of the maze. Around it is a wide gazing pool, and overhead is a rich old willow tree. Hanging from the tree ...

“Faust!” I whisper. What on earth is she doing here? And if she’s here ... could he be here, too? She flicks her tongue, hovering over the gazing pool. The gleam in her eye says that she wants to show me something. I take a seat on the edge of the pool, and lean over to peer into the reflective water below. The longer I concentrate on the shapes in the water, the more they change. Colors too faint to see start to deepen, shadows start to twist and form, Before I know it, my reflection is fading away, and in its place ...I see Asra, drawing water to his face and drinking deeply. Each drop that trickles from his hands sends ripples through his image as it strikes the surface. I’m so shocked to see him that I can only gape silently, afraid that any sound will break the spell. Then he shakes out his hair, blinks the water from his eyes, and looks straight at me.

“Shayde?” Asra looks as surprised as I am. He leans forward, close enough that I cansee the droplets on his eyelashes.

“Can you hear me?” He asks. I nod, barely able to believe it myself. If this is no spell of his, then how did I ...?

“Incredible.” Asra laughs, surprising me. I can see now that he is sitting cross-legged, probably beside a pond. His mount, the strange beast from before, is lying beside him, resting its weighty head on his knee.

“Ah, there’s Faust. Looks like she found you all right.” Asra says. “I wasn’t all that sure about leaving her. But after that reading you gave me ... I thought I’d trust my intuition.” My happiness at seeing him is fading as I recall our parting and my frustrations with him not listening to me.

“So you left her here to spy on me?” I ask. I glance up at Faust, still hanging from the branch. She tilts her head, the picture of innocence. I’ve seen that same look many times before. In the reflection, Asra looks amused. It boils my blood even more.

“In fact ... aren’t you spying on me right now?” Faust was able to work this level of magic, on her own? I don’t buy it. Asra merely shrugs, eyes twinkling with mischief.

“Even when I’m gone, I still manage to offend you, huh?” He mutters. “But ... if anyone’s spying, isn’t it you? I felt your eyes on me before I saw you there. Well, I felt thirsty eyes drinking me up.” His teasing tone makes my blood pressure climb. Not a good combination with already boiling blood. I roll my eyes.Getting right down to business, I tell Asra exactly what has happened since I last laid my thirsty eyes on him. The last 24 hours have been very eventful.

“How do you like that. The day that I leave was the day that you needed me the most.” Asra says. “And even then, you didn’t really need me at all.” I don’t get a chance to respond. The beast on Asra’s knee groans, blinking awake and peering up into his face.

“Ah. Looks like we’ve rested long enough. We have to go. But ...“ Asra begins. “I’m really glad I got to see you.” After replacing his hat and shawl, Asra rises, and with one last glance, moves out of my view. The lumbering beast shuffles behind him. My only warning is the roaring wind before the image is enveloped in a storm of rust-colored sand. When it clears, the water is still, and I see myself reflected with Faust by my side.

That place ... where was he just now? It looked familiar. That copper sand, and the creature beside him ... I realize they are the same as my dream. So it was a vision, then. I’d forgotten all about it. The stars must be aligned in some powerful way. But more than that ... Master told me once that anyone can perform a magical act. Magic is what you do to make the outcome you desire become a reality. So ...was it my desire to see him? Did my magic reach out to him, wherever he is? Or ... was it the other way around? Could be both ...

Mind racing, I rise to my feet. Faust watches me attentively from the tree. I beckon her to follow. Getting to my room unnoticed is going to be a challenge. Steeling myself, I turn back toward the Palace. As I go, I listen to the birds’ echoing calls, and I feel the weight of eyes on my back. Many eyes, from every corner of the garden. This place is teeming with life.

“ _That snake has gotten ... much bigger ..._ “ ... I need sleep. The rustling leaves sound too much like whispers. Hastening my step, I retreat up the stairs and slip back inside.


End file.
